Cupping her breast, his thumb caressed her nipples, already hard and erect. Bending down, he sucked and licked them, until his mouth slipped away, leaving them wet and tingling. Esther felt the touch of metal and drew several sharp breaths as her nipples were slowly crushed in the ferocious bite of an alligator clip. The pain was horrendous and Esther struggled, causing the hook to pull up hard in her anus.
There was a light slap to her bottom and Dylan’s quiet commanding voice told her to keep still. Some tears rolled down her face, but she complied.
“Take the pain and slow your breathing down.”
She concentrated on what he was saying until she was calm. When her other nipple was captured, she whimpered and sobbed, but didn’t struggle. There was little time to adjust to the pain before she felt his lubricated fingers spreading her labia.
“When I tell you to take care of Tammy, what does that mean, Esther?”
“That I’m to watch her at all times.”
There was no sense of seduction as his fingers inserted an oily paste deep into her vagina, before coating the inner lips and clitoris. Esther made a little cry again in expectation of the burn to come. It was a concoction of his own making, having a strong menthol smell and a burn that could last half an hour.
“How did Tammy get so drunk?”
“Because she was sneaking alcohol.”
“Try again.”
Esther sobbed. “Because I disobeyed you.”
“You certainly did.”
Dylan stood up and she could see his disapproval.
“I’m so sorry, Master,” she whispered earnestly.
“There’s a sawhorse in front of you” he said. “Bend over until you’re resting on it.”
Esther breathed in deeply, knowing how much this was going to hurt. She bent forward slowly, feeling the pull of the hook and the heavy clips dragging down on her nipples. Her chest was lowered onto the thick padding of the sawhorse, with her breasts dangling on either side.
She was able to watch as Dylan took a long, thin cane from the trolley. A surge of panic went through her. Normally, she would have welcomed the vicious lash, but her mood was unsettling her, and there was worse to come. When the clips were finally removed from her nipples, the blood would rush back with an agony all of its own.
Everything was hurting far too much, and there was none of the excitement that usually accompanied such a session. Her fear and discomfort were soaring and it was time to call it.
Dylan returned, holding the cane at his side, lightly tapping it against his jeans. “Tell me, Esther, how many strokes makes up for you neglecting Tammy?”
She cried softly. “Not enough, Master.”
“Very good answer,” he smiled. “Here’s another. What’s burning more, your arse, your cunt or your conscience?”
“My conscience, Master.”
“I hope so.” He walked from her sight. “Twenty strokes will appease my temper.”
He was right. She had neglected Tammy and displeased him. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t feeling good about her punishment. It wasn’t about feeling good, but accepting it and doing everything she could to please him.
The cane sawed back and forth across her bottom, building the anticipation of that first strike. Esther breathed faster, as her fear heightened and the need to end it became urgent. The cane was drawn away and returned with a savage impact.
Esther screamed as her body convulsed in agony. It was so much more than she expected, but she forced herself to breathe and endure.
There was a pause, before Dylan grabbed a fistful of hair, studying her face curiously.
“What are the safe words, Esther?”
“Yellow to slow down. Red to stop.”
He nodded and glared at her intensely. “Use them. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master.”
He let her go and went behind her. Esther breathed deeply, knowing her body wasn’t reacting normally. A sweat broke out on her forehead and she felt slightly nauseous and weak.
She probably shouldn’t have had a second glass of champagne. Dylan didn’t approve of drinking most of the time, but strictly forbade it prior to any session with him. It didn’t help that she had felt the tickle of a sore throat coming on earlier that day.
Only her pride kept her mouth clamped shut, until the next lash took her breath away.
Instinctively, she arched upwards, causing the clips on her nipples to tug at her fiercely. Her breath was sieved between gritted teeth as the pain swamped her.
Esther slowly got back into position, only to be rewarded with another hard stroke. Her scream echoed through the room, fading away until she was left moaning like a tortured animal. Looking out into the darkness, she had the sudden revelation that her brother was standing there, his face contorted in a snarl of disgust.
You brought it on yourself with your filthy perversions. You’re a slut and that’s all you’ll ever be. Why do you lie so much, Esther? Why would you say such terrible things about a man who has done nothing but helped us? You can’t tell anyone, because you’ll shame us. No one will want to know us. Everyone will hate us. Why don’t you make it easy on everyone and just go away. Just die and make us all happy.
Esther screamed as the cane bit deeply into the base of her buttocks. The pain washed over her again, seizing up her body until it finally eased into a comforting caress, a promise that it would heal her and restore her sanity. Her mind was blissfully fogging over as was expected in a session like this. It was just strange that she felt so cold and sweaty.
Time passed with nothing happening. She had lost count of the strokes, but knew they weren’t even halfway into the punishment.
“Please, Master,” Esther asked tentatively. “May I have another?”
“No, you fucking can’t.”
His furious answer confused her. “That was only six, I think.”
“Just shut up and brace yourself.”
A fresh agony assaulted her as the clips were taken from her nipples. Esther felt too weak to react and was having trouble focussing through her watering eyes. Dylan had his fingers pressed against her neck, monitoring her pulse.
“I didn’t call it, Master.” She was surprised by the slurring in her speech.
“Yeah, I know you didn’t.” He gripped her chin and glared at her. “You do this again and it will be the last fucking time.”
The hook was gently removed along with her cuffs. A soft blanket was laid over her and she was swept up into Dylan’s strong arms. The nausea got worse and it finally dawned on her that she had come close to going into shock. Once again, she had pushed herself dangerously beyond her limits.
Dylan tended her on the couch, keeping her warm, giving her sips of orange juice and massaging her feet and wrists. His silence made her ashamed, knowing he was furious.
“I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry.”
He looked up from his ministrations. “If you want to keep punishing yourself for crimes in your head, don’t fucking use me to do it. You’re here to serve me, not the other way round, and right now you’re failing badly.”
Esther crumbled under his harsh words, but she held back her tears and bowed her head.
“You don’t need to stay with me, Master. I’m alright.”
“Unlike you, I believe in the safety of what we do and I will be staying with you throughout the night, even though I suspect that’s exactly what you wanted.”
It was always unnerving how easily he read her mind. Esther felt ashamed but couldn’t summon enough regret. The neglect of her safety meant that he would be beside her all night, watching over her, and when his anger dissipated, he would probably give in to his own desires and take possession of her in the light of dawn. By then all her demons would be gone.
CHAPTER THREE
Wellington, September, 2013
After two hours of browsing the internet, Adele sat back in disgust. How did someone with Dylan Tyler’s fame have so little online prese
nce? The only websites were those belonging to admirers of his work. They had obviously done their own searches over the years and spoke in awe of an elusive, mysterious man, with no image to be found anywhere.
There were dates and venues of his exhibitions, but his appearances at them were rare. Phones and cameras were always banned. Descriptions of him were limited to a tall, broad man with thick, black hair. She knew that much herself. Even trying to set up an appointment for a viewing of his work was done through an agent.
It all came back to Esther Manning, the only connection she hadn’t figured out. At no time had any mention of Tyler been made throughout the trial, to which Esther had been key witness.
Adele no longer had her laptop, having had it seized by the police, but she still had folders of handwritten notes which she made throughout every case. Going through them, she took a stack of papers and began to spread them out on the floor of her home office. Getting down on her hands and knees she studied them, ignoring the emotions provoked by what she was reading.
This was a time when James had left Mairead, and Adele had mistakenly believed that she would have a future with him. Instead, he had missed his obnoxious brat, and Adele could not forget how shattered she had felt when he’d taken her back.
She could never quite pinpoint when her admiration of James had become an obsession. Never before had she felt so enraptured by a man. Everything about James was masculine and strikingly attractive, from his height and powerful body, to the refined features of his face. His black hair and equally dark eyes complemented his quiet and impassive demeanour, giving him an air of authority.
His temporal flaws were in his choice of women and occupation. Adele had reluctantly accepted that James was a man ruled by his passions. It was the only explanation of why he would want to own a strip club or love a woman like Mairead. It was a physiological flaw that Adele had been prepared to accept. Men were ultimately carnal and women had endured their lust for centuries, as she would have done for James.
What angered her was how Mairead had perverted his needs, inciting unnatural urges for sexual pursuits beyond the acceptable. It had been to Adele’s distaste to witness the odd occasion when James was not the gentleman he seemed. His overtly sexual behaviour with Mairead bordered on perverse. It would have been so much different if he could have seen Mairead for the spoilt, rude and unruly girl she was.
Adele continued to study every entry, but it was another hour before she saw something that captured her interest. It was the notes she had made about Esther’s friend Melanie, who was also involved in the case.
Esther seems to be a reasonable person, quietly spoken and eerily calm for what she has been through. I can’t say the same about Melanie. The girl is highly strung and emotional and her testimony could be unreliable. One minute she’s crying and apologizing for kidnapping Esther, and then she changes back to her original testimony, that she was hiding her away. At one point when I was alone with her, Melanie started raving on about some man that had come for Esther, a big muscled giant with weird blue eyes and tattoos all over his arms and chest. She said that they were calling him Master. When I asked her who ‘they’ were, she said Esther and the French girl. What French girl? I am of a strong opinion that Melanie is delusional.
Adele stopped reading and thought back to the day at the art gallery and her first glimpse of Dylan Tyler.
“His eyes were brown, not blue.” She smirked. “Contacts.”
Rifling through her files, she found Melanie’s details and wrote her address down. She thought about ringing her, but a surprise visit was more likely to yield information. Grabbing her keys, she headed out.
Half an hour later she was navigating her car through one of the more rundown suburbs of Wellington. It was like taking a drive back in time, getting that call from James, to come to this very house. He had been waiting for her out the front, his mood dark from an earlier confrontation with Mairead.
In a year the house hadn’t changed. The front yard was still overgrown with weeds. The mailbox was stuffed with junk mail. Adele nervously approached the front door and knocked.
After a third knock, the door opened slightly and a girl’s face stared back at Adele, pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her brown hair hung greasy and untidy about her face and she didn’t look happy to see Adele.
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk, Melanie,” Adele assured her. “I have some questions about the case…”
“It’s over,” Melanie said angrily. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“If I could have just a few minutes…”
“I’m not going through this again.” Melanie looked on the verge of tears. “I’ve already lost everything. Stephen’s left me. Esther deserted me…”
“This is about Esther,” Adele told her quickly. “I’m worried about her. Nobody’s heard from her.”
“Well, she isn’t here, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She pouted sullenly. “She’ll be with that man. He hides her away, just the way she wants it.”
“It’s because of this man that I’m here. I believe Esther could be in very real danger.”
Melanie stared at her and then slowly opened the door. She walked down a dark, dingy hallway and Adele quickly entered and followed her into a room, stifled by the heavy odour of alcohol and tobacco. There were pizza boxes strewn about on the floor and overflowing ashtrays sat amongst empty vodka bottles on a coffee table. Melanie slumped down into an old armchair and lit a cigarette.
Adele’s heart wrenched to see how much Melanie had changed. The once, bright, religious girl was now little more than a zombie. Checking the seat on an old worn couch, Adele sat down.
“This man that Esther was with, you’ve seen him, haven’t you, Melanie?”
For a moment Melanie stared without answering. “This is some type of trick to get me to perjure myself. None of it was my idea. They told me what to say and I said it.”
“I’m not here to bring the case up again, only to find this man. I swear to you, Melanie. I helped you that time, didn’t I?”
Melanie smirked. “I heard that you were in trouble now. Mairead got to you, too.”
“Yes,” Adele nodded. “Which is why I need your help. We have both been the victims, Melanie, you and I.”
“Yeah, except you didn’t suffer what Esther and I did. I don’t blame her for wanting to hide from everyone. I just wish she had stayed hidden, and not come out to drag the whole fucking mess up again. She should have just left it.”
“But those men are in prison now, paying for their crimes.”
“Yeah, and I’m paying the price for putting them away.”
“What you did was incredibly brave…”
Melanie snapped at her. “What do you want, Adele?”
“Melanie, I want to know what happened that day, when Mairead found Esther, here at your grandmother’s house.”
“I was hiding her. I didn’t kidnap her, if you’re here to lay that on me.”
“I’m not. Everything we talk about is strictly off the record. All I’m interested in is the man you saw that day, the one that arrived with James.”
Melanie curled up on her seat, pouting miserably. “I’m not supposed to talk about that. I could get into all sorts of shit.”
“They threatened you,” Adele offered, hoping she would take the bait. “I suppose they said they would accuse you of kidnapping Esther if you spoke of this man.”
“Maybe.” Melanie eyed her suspiciously.
“That’s blackmail, Melanie, and their accusations wouldn’t stand up in a court of law. Trust me, Melanie, crimes have been committed, but not by you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything, from the moment you first saw him.”
“He arrived with James and that French girl, and he went straight to Esther and picked her up.”
“Did you know this girl’s name?”
“Yvette.”
Adele nodded. “And what about him? Did you hear what they called him?”
“It’s stupid,” Melanie scowled. “They were calling him Master. It was sick.”
Adele breathed trying to keep calm. “What about Mairead and James. Did they speak to him? Did they also call him Master?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
“Scary.” Melanie pouted fearfully. “He had tattoos all over him and his eyes were creepy, really pale and weird. I remember those eyes because he stared at me, really angrily, and I thought he was going to hurt me.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“No, but he must have owned that fancy apartment Esther stayed in during the trial. I think he’s got money. Maybe that’s why Esther wants to be with him.”
“Did James talk to this man? Did he call him by name?”
“Yeah, but I can’t remember what it was.”
“If I gave you a name, you would tell me if it wasn’t the right one, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“Melanie, was this man’s name David?”
“No,” she shook her head. “It wasn’t David.”
“What about Alan?”
Again, Melanie shook her head. “No, I remember thinking it reminded me of some rock star’s name.”
“Like Mick Jagger?”
“Nah.”
“Bob Dylan?”
There was a thoughtful frown on Melanie’s face before she nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. I remember James calling him Dylan, like Bob Dylan.”
Adele reached into her bag and brought out one of the photos she had taken at the wedding. She passed it to Melanie.
“Does this look like the man you saw?”
Melanie took one glance, scowled and handed it back. “Yeah, that’s him.”
Adele’s heart was racing as she stood up. “Thank you, Melanie.”
“So what now?”
“I’m going to find this man and make sure Esther is safe.”
“I really miss her,” Melanie sulked. “We used to be the best of friends, once. We used to have loads of fun, and she was the only one who made it bearable living with my bitch of a grandmother.”
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